Threads
by tromana
Summary: -Drabble Collection-  How much can you say in one hundred words? Quite a lot, when you come to think about it. Various genres, characters and pairings, but predominantly Jane/Lisbon.
1. 1 to 10

**A/N: **So, I'm quite a keen drabbler. Mostly because I love just how much you can say in so few words. I've collected together quite a lot of drabbles now and thought it about time I updated them onto here. Each update will contain 10 drabbles, hopefully.

I mostly drabble on the Mentalist Big Bang Vent community and on **Paint It Red**, the Mentalist fan forum I co-run.

Speaking of** Paint It Red**, we are hosting our first ever _Gift Exchange_! (or Secret Santa, if you would rather call it that.) If you're interested in participating, please join and sign up! Sign ups close next week on Wednesday. The link to the forum is in my profile.

x tromana

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><p><strong><strong>Title: <strong>**Threads**  
><strong>Author: <strong>**tromana**  
><strong>Rating: <strong>**Various (Predominantly K+ to T)**  
><strong>Characters: <strong>**Various**  
><strong>Summary:<strong> **How much can you say in one hundred words? Quite a lot, when you come to think about it.**  
><strong>Disclaimer: <strong>**If I owned the Mentalist, it would have already premiered in the UK!  
><strong>Notes:<strong> Currently spoiler-free for season 4. That is likely to change when it finally hits UK screens...

**Need**

Away from her seemed like a very good place to be right now.

She was mad, furious even. It was a very rare occurrence that he had ever seen Teresa Lisbon so angry.

And it was his fault.

Of course it was, when wasn't it? He was the thorn in her side, the bane of her very existence. This was just the final straw.

But really, it was all he could do. It was a defense mechanism, to stop himself from doing anything he might regret. Anything that was too risky.

Still, he knocked on the door. He needed her.

**Family**

"Do not move, hands behind your head."

Her voice was laced with authority, just as it always was. Cho tried to ignore the slight catch in her throat as she barked instructions at the perp. He didn't need to be told to know who this was. It was obvious; the resemblance was striking.

This was her brother.

He admired the way that she dealt with him, as if he were any other suspect. He would have intercepted, but he knew that she wouldn't have wanted that. Arresting her own brother may have been difficult, but she was still the boss.

**Misdirection**

"You're going the wrong way. We should have taken the last left!"

"No, this is right. I know where we're going."

"Lisbon is going to kill us if we're late."

Van Pelt slouched back in the chair and folded her arms angrily. She wished that Rigsby had allowed her to drive for a change. Sometimes, he was overprotective of her and she found it draining.

At least it was all in the open now. Everyone knew they were dating and were more or less happy for them to continue to do so.

Didn't change the fact they were lost though.

**Teasing**

"Wasn't Jane meant to do that?"

"No, you were."

"Really?"

Rigsby leaned back and looked at Cho skeptically. Sometimes, he found it impossible to know when the man was telling the truth or teasing him. He liked Cho, really, he did, but sometimes the slight digs grated a little. Everyone made him out to be the fool and sure, he made the odd slip up, but he was a good agent. If he wasn't, he'd have lost his job a long time ago.

"No, I'm sure Lisbon said Jane was gonna do it."

"Yeah, I was just messing with you."

**Dreams**

She'd done it. She had actually done it.

People had always said she was too young, too inexperienced to take on that case. Really, it had all just been euphemisms for 'she's a woman'. Somehow, people thought that that meant she simply couldn't handle the major cases.

But Red John was dead, gone.

She had nearly died, but that was just a part of the job description. If she had been so worried about her own mortality, she wouldn't have become a cop.

Her eyes sprang open.

If only.

But she needed to do it. She _needed _to stop Jane.

**Later**

Now.

Now, he was going to apologize. Say he was sorry.

That Craig hadn't turned out to be the man of her dreams. That she had had to kill him in the line of duty. That she had had her belief in the system and more importantly, herself, shaken by what was seemingly uncontrollable.

For not fighting for her when he had the chance. He should have insisted that he'd leave. That he'd never hate her - how could he? That they could have had the life they'd always dreamed of.

He placed his cell phone back down.

Maybe later.

**Fun and Games**

"See? It's easy."

"Yes, if you say so Jane."

She avoided the temptation of rolling her eyes as she walked away. Really, she should never have bothered humoring him in the first place. There was a time and place for games and in the middle of a murder investigation was definitely not that.

Still, she couldn't deny that he had injected a little fun into the workplace. He made it something she actively looked forward to. Not that she didn't love her job, mind.

But he still wasn't going to convince her that card tricks were easy any time soon.

**Sorry**

He's not sorry for killing Red John. Why would he be? It's all he's ever wanted. Of course, there's all the little problems, like actually proving it was Red John he'd shot, but that'll be dealt with later. What he does feel sorry for, however, is the repercussions. Jane had spent so long trying to push people away beforehand, but the stubborn fools just couldn't see sense. In a way, he had just given up. Not because he wasn't scared for them, but because their persistence wore him down. Their lives are a mess and he's to blame, yet again.

**Petty Revenge**

"Lose something?"

"No, no, I just… temporarily misplaced them."

"Oh really, is that what they're calling it?"

Lisbon flopped down beside Jane as he desperately searched her couch. It made a nice change, seeing him so agitated. Still, she knew she had to put him out of his misery, else they wouldn't get to work on time.

"Okay. What have you done with them?"

"I don't know what you're talking about," she answered coolly before laughing and handing him his keys.

"That's not fair."

"Looks fair to me."

"I was distracted!"

"How so?"

"Like this," he answered before kissing her.

**God Complex**

Her heart was pounding.

She hated it when it ended like this._ Hated _it. Why did things always have to spiral out of control?

Eventually she put her gun away. It was safe now; nobody was trying to shoot her.

They hadn't even suspected these kids as being the killer; just witnesses. And yet, because they were a gang, they had assumed that she - and her team - had thought that.

She felt like she was the one who had to choose if others should live or die.

And that was wrong. She wasn't God; she never would be.


	2. 11 to 20

**A/N: **Another quick batch of drabbles for today. Would love to see more participation in the Drabble Tag on Paint It Red, because then I would be able to write more. Also, the Paint It Red 2011 Gift Exchange is only open for signups for one more day! Please have a look and find out!

Thank you to: MerriWyllow and PhoenixWytch for reviewing drabbles 1-10.

x tromana

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><p><strong>Interruption<strong>

He allowed his hand to gently caress her cheek and was surprised when she didn't shy away. Normally, she hated being disturbed on the job, but today was different. She'd had to kill another man, to protect her team and he knew how much that hurt her. Lisbon accepted the affection willingly, needed it almost, to remind herself she was still human. That she'd done the right thing.

"Boss, I brought the A-"

Lisbon glared at Cho, and so did Jane.

It was times like this which made them both wish she could invest in a lock for her office.

**Doubt**

Weren't you ashamed of what you'd done?

No? Why not?

You took a man's life away, stole it in the blink of an eye. All it took was the twitch of a finger, to pull the trigger once, twice and a third time for good measure.

That's all.

You couldn't even be sure that it was Red John, not one hundred percent. As always, you were just quietly confident that it was.

What if it wasn't? What if it was one of his acolytes, sent on a suicide mission to do his bidding?

Are you sure you feel no guilt?

**Visiting Hours**

He creeps into the hospital room nervously.

Rigsby knows that he's well within his rights to see her, to check that she's doing okay, but that doesn't stop him from feeling a little on edge. Like someone, probably Jane, is about to catch him in the act.

They've closed the case now, it's not as if he's spending company time visiting Grace. He doesn't even look like a concerned boyfriend.

The bunch of flowers? They're just a get well gift.

When he sees her, she's asleep. It's almost a relief to see her looking so relaxed instead of in pain.

**Potential**

His eyes scan the bustling crowd. Where's his mark? She should be here, she said she would be attending. Said that she was intrigued by who he was and what he did.

Why isn't she here? She promised.

And if she isn't here, what's he going to do? He needs to put on a show, convince the crowd he is a true psychic. There's hundreds of people here. And each and every one of them is has potential to make him money. All of them have stories to tell, things they regret.

It's just his job to find that out.

**Focus**

The woman, almost naked, winked at Rigsby and Cho swore he saw the man's jaw hit the floor. Really, Lisbon should have come here with him herself. She certainly shouldn't have bothered sending Rigsby to a burlesque club.

"Come on."

Cho suppressed the urge to roll his eyes. It wasn't as if Rigsby hadn't seen a woman in a state of undress before; he'd heard far too many stories about the cougars the man had pulled on occasion.

Eventually, he left him and headed towards the reception. He wasn't going to get any sense out of Rigsby any time soon.

**Wrong**

"You don't care about anyone else, you never do," she seethes, slamming her fist against the table. "All you care about is revenge."

You flinch. She's right, as always. That's what makes it hard to bear. But the timing is wrong; it's _always_ wrong.

Sometimes, you don't think it'll ever be right.

She goes to hit the table again and instead, you catch her wrist, encircling it lightly with your fingers.

Gently, you place a kiss on the back of her hand, begging, willing her to understand.

If there's ever going to be another somebody in your life, it's her.

**In The Leaves**

She stared at Yolanda impatiently, waiting for her cousin to come to a conclusion.

Van Pelt had followed all of her instructions to the letter. She wasn't really much of a tea drinker, especially not loose tea, but Yolanda had said it would help. Would give her some answers after everything that had happened to her of late.

As Yolanda twisted the cup around, making indistinct noises, Van Pelt could practically hear Jane scoffing in disbelief. Saying that it was just nonsense for the gullible.

But she didn't care. If it helped her feel better, it would do its job.

**The Fear**

It tires you, sometimes. Being professional, being the one in control. Only being able to let loose on very rare occasions. Usually, those come out of sight, behind closed doors, so nobody knows.

Except that one time…

But everybody believed that was entirely an act. That you and Jane had made it up, to ensure that you proved your innocence.

Sometimes, you wish that you could let rip, let people know how it feels to have so much wrong in your life. But they can't know, because you won't let them.

Because you're too scared to trust anyone but yourself.

**Jealousy**

You think I don't care.

That I don't have feelings, least of all for you.

But I do. And I know .

You're spending time in another room, with somebody else. You're spending less time with me.

I treasure our time together. When we share that cup of tea, or a good book. The times when we can seek solace from one another. Nobody else can offer comfort to you the way I do.

I'm even willing to share, when needs be.

But obviously, as far as you're concerned, I could be any old piece of furniture. And that's it.

**Desire**

Her hands ran through his curls as his tongue swept across her lips. She groaned and his fingers ran up and down her spine, before he pulled her in closely as possible. For years, they had waited. There had been so many missed opportunities, so much time wasted. Why couldn't they have just given in ages ago? It would have saved all the heartache, all the frustration, all the desperation.

It may have even stopped him from turning into a killer.

Now they had finally succumbed to their desires, he was behind bars. Just to make everything a little harder.


	3. 21 to 30

**A/N:** Okay, so after this update it may be a short while until I have some more drabbles to post. I'm running out of prompts that I find accessible. (In other words, this is a shameless plea to get people to do some more drabbles on Paint It Red! 100 words can take less than 10 minutes to do, honest!)

Thank you to: PhoenixWytch and Brown Eyes Parrker for reviewing drabbles 11 - 20.

x tromana

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><p><strong>Obsession<strong>

Rigsby flipped the letter over and over.

It had arrived just a week ago, but Rigsby flung it into the depths of his desk drawer. The distance between him and it gave him a brief respite, some peace and quiet, while at home.

He didn't want to hear from his father; why would he? The bastard had nothing good to say to him. He was lowlife criminal scum and deserved to be treated as such.

But still, even then, he couldn't stop thinking about it. What if something had happened? What if he needed help?

What if he had changed?

**Glass Heart**

A heart is meant to be an organ, of muscle, of blood. Solid, reliable, always there. It has to be. Without it, you'll die. No heart means no blood flow and that leads to oxygen deprivation and death.

He swears that his is made of glass. That it shattered into a thousand tiny pieces when his family died.

And he has. Died, that is.

Because he's merely existing by default. Because his organ heart still beats.

But Lisbon is slowly trying to get closer. If she succeeds, it'll be a miracle. There's countless pieces she has to sift through first.

**Unhappy Wedding Day**

The wedding bells had chimed. Their family had gathered. Everyone was excited.

They had spent months planning today, right down to the most minute detail.

But she wasn't here.

She was late; she had promised she wouldn't be.

xxx

One hundred miles away and his fiancée was surrounded by people. Not their guests, not the family and friends who loved her, but police.

The brunette senior agent touched her consultant lightly with her left hand.

He was staring at a smiley face on the wall, painted with the woman's own blood.

It was still glistening by the time they left.

**Consequences**

The smell of a gunshot lingers in the air.

She's shaking like a leaf.

Momentarily stunned, he gazes back at her, all wide-eyed and mild surprise.

She places her gun back in the holster, still shaking.

He staggers backwards, before his knees give way and he collapses.

Soon, she's by his side, fingers pressed firmly to his throat and urging him to stay awake.

His breath is rasping and although she's called for a paramedic, she knows they'll arrive too late.

And the sad fact is, this all could have been avoided. If he hadn't attempted to kill a man.

**Psyche**

It was over.

Or rather, it was meant to be over.

After years of insomnia, something he'd expertly crafted as he never deserved sleep, he had finally allowed himself to indulge. To slip off into a dreamland he had actively avoided.

But it wasn't peaceful. Wasn't happy. It didn't echo the peace of mind he had successfully obtained while awake.

He was being taunted still.

Why was a short man with reddish curls creeping through his sleep?

Why was he still murdering?

He was dead.

And why did it have to be Teresa Lisbon he killed over and over again?

**Choices**

Lisbon paused.

Her thumb hovered over the dial button.

Jane hadn't called her. Like he said he would.

Him breaking promises wasn't anything new, but all the way to the hospital, she had been clinging to that shred of hope.

She had heard that subtle changes didn't make a difference in the scheme of things. Stepping on a butterfly didn't matter; there were always more butterflies. Killing a bird might have more of an effect, but it was still unlikely.

What did it matter if she phoned Jane? The conversation would probably end up the same regardless.

She pressed it.

**Something From Tiffany's**

She wasn't the material type. Not really. Her dad had always taught her to work hard, play hard and live life to the fullest. Material things came and went. People were what was important, what lasted. Owning expensive cars or beautiful jewlry or whatever didn't make you a good person; if anything, it made you a little vain and materialistic.

The blue box felt heavy in her hands. She hadn't even opened it yet, but even she could appreciate its beauty. She hadn't even realized that she wanted to know what it was like to hold one until she did.

**Betrayal**

"You wouldn't dare."

"Try me."

His eyes flash with anger. He expected her threat; if she hadn't, then he would have been more surprised. She folds her arms and watches as he stalks towards Rigsby. With his every footstep, he can feel her eyes boring into him.

He cringes, wishing it hadn't come down to this.

"Don't you think she looks tired?" he whispers.

It is for her own safety. She needs to be away from the CBI, out of sight.

If she couldn't see it, then he would have to force her into it. There is no other way.

**Trauma**

Van Pelt wrapped her arms tightly around the small girl and let her sob into her shoulder. There weren't many things that fazed her now, but finding out that a child had discovered her daddy's body sickened her to her stomach. No wonder the kid was traumatized. Soothingly, she rubbed the girl up and down her back, in the vain hope that it would calm her down. The girl's mom was busy, talking to Lisbon and Jane, so she had been left to care for the little one. She couldn't make everything better, but it was all she could do.

**Jail**

Bars lined the windows and the doors.

Naturally. This was jail, it was the least that he expected. It was something he'd done before, but on that occasion, it was never going to be for an extended stay.

This time, it was for murder. He'd killed a man. Apparently, in cold blood, unless he could prove that it was indeed Red John. That was half the problem. It may well have been obvious to him, but the law required technicalities like evidence.

He also knew the team was pissed as hell at him. But they'd forgiver him. Sooner or later.


	4. 31 to 40

**A/N:** Nobody's really been drabbling lately, hence the reason why I haven't been able update this. Sorry. To improvise, I wrote some drabbles for Frogster in the Paint It Red Gift Exchange. That is where the first five of these come from.

Anyway, thank you to: MerriWyllow, Brown Eyes Parker and Ebony10 (no, you're not making up words! Obviously, I need to get better. ;-) ) for reviewing drabbles 21 - 30.

x tromana

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><p><strong>A Conversation<strong>

"So, you're essentially saying, you're a conman?"

"You're one to talk."

"What makes you say that?"

"Books. They're just lies, aren't they? Wish fulfillment."

Castle placed his beer glass down and cocked his head quizzically.

"Are you insinuating what I think you are, Patrick Jane?"

"Nikki Heat… Kate Beckett. It _is_ rather obvious."

"Says you. Nikki Heat is my own invention. Beckett, however, is my muse."

Jane smirked. "That's what they all say."

"Besides, it's rather obvious why you hang around with the CBI, especially now the Red John case is closed."

"Is that so?"

"Yes. It's Lisbon, isn't it?"

**Justice and Mercy**

You watch as the needle pierces his skin. He turns to look at you and smiles. Then, his eyes droop shut before another injection is administered.

It's time.

As his breathing slows, you watch. You're not leaving until he's dead. Someone has to be there, just to mark the passing.

She squeezes your hand and you're glad you convinced her to come with you. No, you're glad _she _convinced you revenge is a fool's game.

That life is worth living. That it is possible to move on.

It's just a shame Red John had nobody to teach him that lesson.

**Loss**

Her hand shook as she tried to fill in the form. Frustrated, she threw the pen to one side and rested her head in her hands. What was she meant to do?

Jane watched her every movement through the blinds.

Swallowing, he pushed the door open. He had a steaming coffee in one hand, but that was just an excuse to disturb her.

He closed the gap between them and tentatively placed a hand on her shoulder.

He knew why she was like this. He understood exactly what she was going through.

Why did it have to have been Annabeth?

**Wave On Wave**

Red John's not dead. It's blindingly obvious. Anyone would be a fool to believe otherwise.

Sometimes, fighting Red John seems like an impossible task. Whenever you think that you're getting somewhere, a curveball is thrown and you're back to square one.

People think he's the reason you're still here. They're wrong.

If it was all about Red John, you'd have given up a long while ago. Thrown in the towel. What's the point in fighting the implausible?

No. You've found another reason to get up in the morning. Another reason to come to work.

She just doesn't know it yet.

**Frustration**

He recognized the crease between her eyebrows, the one that meant she was frustrated.

The cause was almost always the same thing: him.

With a smile, he closed his eyes, pretending to sleep. He knew she wouldn't be fooled by it, she never was. Lisbon knew better than most just how bad his insomnia was.

After all, it was she who he woke up at three am to share a cup of tea. And again at five am after he'd had a revelation on the case.

And it was him who had wound up the Mayor because he was bored.

**Silence**

She hands him a cup of tea and wordlessly, he accepts it.

Tentatively, she sits down beside him and he doesn't say a word. It's been a long day, a long week even. However, in their line of work, it's always difficult. If it isn't then, she worries.

Still, some are more difficult than others. And this is one of _them_.

He's taken the developments badly, just as she suspected he would. She'd loathed being the one to give him that piece of news but someone had to.

And she's always going to be there for him, no matter what.

**Pain Thresholds**

"Ow, ow, ow!"

Lisbon literally dropped the mug she'd been holding and bolted from the kitchenette and into the bullpen. She didn't need to be told who was making a fuss; it was blindingly obvious. Still, whenever she heard someone call for help, it was her gut reaction to try and assist them. Even if that person was Jane and his exceedingly low pain threshold.

"What's happened?" she asked as she watched Jane hobble towards her.

"Kicked my couch."

"Why'd you do a stupid thing like that?"

Jane shrugged and Lisbon rolled her eyes. It was one of those days.

**Monster**

Your hand quivers as she slowly moves forward.

You were the last person she expected to find here and you can see it written in her features. She looks hurt, angry and confused. Your heart aches at the concept of the torment you're putting her through.

But you couldn't stop yourself; you never can.

The knife hits the floor as she holsters her gun. She already has the handcuffs out.

You should have known. Shouldn't have let it consume you.

But you did. And now, everything you could have had, everything you could have shared is an impossibility.

It's over.

**Food**

Jane grabbed a cookie, stared at it, considering, before popping it into his mouth and smiling. There was nothing like chocolate chip cookies to make talk about dead bodies go quicker.

As he did so, Rigsby eyed him warily before doing the same. Jane took another, as did Rigsby. He smirked. Sometimes, people couldn't help but copy. Once the idea was planted in their head, that was it. Or they couldn't risk feeling like they were missing out.

"Are you two having an eating contest?" Lisbon asked, "or do either of you have something useful to say about the case?"

**Jewels**

His wife had always liked diamonds. There was something about the way they sparkled in sunlight, which always caught her eye. His daughter too, the little magpie. It was something he suspected she had inherited from her mother.

He'd always thought them a little ostentatious. Besides, everyone liked diamonds.

What was wrong with a splash of color every so often?

He picked out the jewelry for Lisbon on a whim. Thought it would bring out the color in her eyes. And it did.

Jane had never had a favorite jewel, but now, he couldn't get emeralds off of his mind.


	5. 41 to 50

**A/N: **Long time since I last had an opportunity to update Threads. I've now cross-posted the entire collection to AO3, just to 'prove' that all the drabbles are 100 words! And also, a huge thank you to MerriWyllow who recced this collection on Paint It Red.

Thank you to: anthropologist, Brown Eyes Parker, Frogster, Aeidhryn, Lothlorien Aeterna and Ebony 10 for reviewing the last batch of drabbles.

x tromana

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><p><strong>Fatal Error<strong>

"Rigs, you and Van Pelt go talk to the brother, see what he knows."

"Yes, Mom," Rigsby answered.

It was only when Van Pelt choked on her drink and Lisbon smirked in response that Rigsby realized what fatal error he'd made.

"Boss," he corrected himself quickly, his cheeks turning bright red. "I mean boss. Definitely boss."

"Good," Lisbon answered primly. "Because last time I checked, I'm not even old enough to be your mother."

Rigsby nodded and apologized. Part of him wished that the ground would swallow him whole.

The rest was relieved that Jane wasn't there to hear it.

**Obvious**

Lisbon stared at the dead body sadly when she heard footsteps approaching from behind. She didn't have to turn to know it was Jane creeping up on her, but she did anyway. Jane smiled briefly before he stood beside her.

"Hey, Lisbon."

"Jane," she acknowledged quietly. "Is the coroner here yet?"

"I'm not sure you need him."

She looked slightly baffled by his statement; of course they needed the coroner. There was information that only he knew how to get from a dead body.

"Why not?"

"Isn't it obvious that he died from an arrow shot from his own bow?"

**on the edge of the precipice**

Her hands were shaking as she took to the dock. Of course, she expected some nerves, but not like this.

Did she regret what she had done? Of course not, why would she?

As far as she was concerned, she was doing her job.

It just so happened that the law disagreed with her methods somewhat.

But she had done it to save lives and to save a specific life. He was edging so close to that precipice, she couldn't risk him going over the edge.

"Stand."

Immediately, she complied, trying to remain impassive.

"We, the jury, find Teresa Lisbon…"

**Pirates!**

"They're pirates, Jane," she hissed.

He nodded and tapped a finger against his lips.

"_Real_ pirates," Lisbon continued, as if she hadn't already stated the fact enough.

Still, he remained quiet. She didn't need a confirmation of facts that she already knew.

"I didn't think they still existed."

Jane shrugged and instead, studied the captain intently. There was something odd about him, he knew that for certain.

"Jane?"

"Yes, Lisbon?" he answered, eventually breaking his silence.

"Do you think the captain is our murderer?"

"Even if he is," he started slowly, carefully. "I don't think he'll listen to your authority."

**Portrait**

Van Pelt wasn't as good as Lisbon was when it came to playing his games. That was saying something, actually. Lisbon was pretty terrible at them too; the mistrustful creature that she was. He could hardly blame her, but still. Trust – from both women – was something in craved.

For some reason, the rookie wasn't quite capable of joining the dots, hadn't realized what he needed her to do. Pretending to be his lover, and having her portrait sketched, was just a distraction.

It would allow him to go snoop around, unnoticed.

All Van Pelt could focus on was her embarrassment.

**Regrets**

Rigsby's happy now.

You watch as he coos over baby Benjamin, how he cradles the boy carefully and makes clucking noises at his tiny son. He's taken so well to his role as a father, far better than he ever imagined he would. You knew he'd be good at it, though. Even told him as much on several occasions.

Sarah watches carefully from the sidelines. There's a look of warmth and joy written across her features.

And she's wearing a ring on her left hand now.

It breaks your heart, in a way.

**Romeo and Juliet**

She stares out directly in front of her instead of focusing on the happy couple exchanging their vows. When everybody else coos over Benjamin stumbling away from his grandmother and up the aisle to his parents, Van Pelt just blinks.

Her mind is elsewhere.

It always is at moments like this.

It's not that she isn't pleased for Rigsby, quite the contrary.

All she hears is the little voice in her head screaming 'that could have been you.'

Like Romeo and Juliet, she had thought her love for Rigsby would last forever.

Instead, she's doomed to a miserable existence, alone.

After all, that could have been you.

**Scream**

She feels like she's going to scream.

In all honesty, she loves her job, but she hates the effect it's having on her.

The jaded cynicism has washed over her, almost unexpectedly. Then again, given the latest turn of events, it's hardly unexpected, is it?

Though she admires her boss, she doesn't want to turn into her. She wants a family; she liked her hope, her naïveté and misses them. The job is beginning to overwhelm her and she had promised that she'd never let it do that.

But it has.

And it is.

And she needs to get out.

**star crossed lovers**

"You love her, don't you?"

Jane turned to face Haymitch, grimacing at what he saw. The man – still a boy, really – hadn't taken well to becoming a victor in the Hunger Games. Jane may have joined the ranks later than him, but was doing a remarkably better job of keeping things together.

"So what if I do?"

With a noncommittal shrug, Haymitch passed over the bottle of whiskey.

"You do realize the odds on her coming out of this alive, don't you?"

He nodded.

The odds were very much not in Teresa Lisbon's favor.

And that's what scared him most.

**Trust Issues**

"Do you trust me?"

Lisbon looked at Jane, wondering what had brought on this conversation. The look in his eye suggested a desperate need for approval. That wasn't uncommon, but at the same time, it had been so long since they had last addressed this topic.

In fact, Lisbon had believed they were over it.

Or, at least, she had gotten very good at ignoring them.

"What sort of question is that?" she asked with furrowed brows.

Jane just shook his head and sauntered off. She couldn't help but think that – yet again – she had given him the incorrect answer.


	6. 51 to 60

**A/N: **With thanks to Little-Firestar84, ljp42 and Miss Peg for reviewing the previous batch.

x tromana

* * *

><p><strong>Half-Truths<strong>

His past isn't some great secret; he just doesn't like people to know everything.

Knowledge is power. Power is something that people can use against you.

Cho is a man who likes to be in control. He doesn't like to have _too_ much power; he's learned from experience that it's dangerous for him to be in charge. Besides, he respects his boss.

When he opens up, it's only when it's necessary. He doesn't want to be put in a compromising position because of his time in the gang or the army.

He just wants to get on with his job.

**Countdown**

There are only so many times he can push her away before she'll disappear for good. She'll cast aside the hope that maybe, deep down, he loves her too and she'll just give up on him.

He wouldn't blame her for that; anybody else would react in exactly the same way.

But he's scared.

Of what'll happen to her if he lets himself get any closer.

What he'll do to her.

It's almost a phobia, an irrational fear.

If she isn't scared, then why is he?

"I love you," he eventually whispers.

He can barely believe he's said it all.

**Kismet**

"Thank you for coming, Mr. Jane. I understand this is a difficult time for you."

He nods ever so slightly as he follows the mortician through the morgue. His heart beats erratically. There's still a chance that there's been a mix-up, that it's somebody else lying on that steel bench, covered in plastic.

That it isn't her.

Jane's shaking when they reach the appropriate room, and not because of the cold.

"You ready?"

He nods and she uncovers the body.

Her skin is ashen, lips grey.

It's Teresa.

And he swears she's the last person Red John will ever kill.

**Disappointment**

"I brought you something."

Lisbon slipped into the hospital room and Jane brightened immediately. He knew that it was a necessity, that she would do anything to help him get out sooner. However, the doctors insisted that he needed monitoring and check-ups and tests and whatever else. So, he was stuck in one room and going a little crazy.

Only Lisbon's visits broke up the monotony. She handed him the paper bag and he ripped it open excitedly.

When he found a cupcake, he frowned.

"It's a cupcake. I wanted a blueberry muffin…"

"It was the best I could do!"

**This Kiss**

He'd never tell her, but he's been imaging this moment for a long while.

How it would feel to run his hands through her silky dark locks, what it would be like caress her cheek, how soft her lips would be as he presses his against hers.

In the end, it's a chaste affair. He takes her off-guard and it's over almost as soon as it started. He doesn't care though; he feels energized, excited by the touch. She looks confused, as if she's toying between slapping him and kissing him back.

He's relieved when she chooses the second option.

**half a heart**

She loved Craig to the ends of the earth, to the very bottom of her heart.

All she'd been able to see in him was goodness, kindness and sweetness.

That was, until, her whole world came crashing down around her.

Now, all she could feel was heartache, misery, loss.

Betrayal.

Van Pelt found it impossible to put two and two together. How could her Craig, the dear sweet man who had swept her off her feet, who had made her forget all about her childish love affair with Rigsby, be a cohort of Red John's?

It just didn't add up.

**it comes a time of death**

The walls are painted red with blood.

Bodies in various states of decay litter the rooms. Some are merely a pile of bones and others still hold some sort of semblance of once being a human being.

There's the scent of decay surrounding them. Hardly surprising, given the sheer carnage in this building.

This is Red John's murder house.

It's where he kills the victims he doesn't want anybody to know about. These are the ones which he needed to just disappear.

Patrick Jane has been missing for seventeen days.

Teresa hopes that she doesn't find his body amongst them.

**Fallen Embers**

Hope.

He's not used to this.

This small shred of _something_ buried deep inside.

It's something which reminds him what he's living for.

There is life after, life beyond Red John.

For years, he's been living in a capsule.

Closed off to the world.

Fixated on just the one thing.

Red John, Red John, Red John.

It's tiring.

Depressing.

Sad.

Since joining the CBI, so much has changed.

Himself included.

He'd be a fool to deny that.

He watches as Teresa crosses the bullpen, file in hand.

Work is always her first calling.

But there's more to her than that.

**Deniability**

"Something's going on between you two, isn't it?"

"No, there isn't," she denied.

Lisbon didn't want anybody to know about the change in their relationship status. In truth, she and Jane were still trying to figure out what was going on between them themselves. That was far easier done without an audience.

Jane slipped in beside her and placed a gentle hand on her shoulder. She glanced at him briefly, and he had that look on his face. The one that suggested he had everything he wanted, and more.

"Oh, Teresa, there's no point in us denying it, is there?"

**Cocoa**

Rigsby would always remember the look in his eye when Ben got his first taste of cocoa. It was the holiday season, and Rigsby had decided to treat himself. As always, he'd topped it off with marshmallows and whipped cream; perfect.

It didn't last long, but only because Rigsby had forgotten to factor in a very determined toddler.

That was unusual for him; generally, he had taken to fatherhood well. However, he turned his back on Ben for a second and that was it.

Ben took a taste, and he knew he wasn't getting his cocoa back any time soon.


End file.
